


choke on my blood while i choke on yours

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Assassin Bucky Barnes, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Murder, Shy Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 11:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A world where the colour of your blood precedes you and you just might fall in love with a criminal with black tar for blood.





	choke on my blood while i choke on yours

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this as a fanfiction piece for my grade 12 english course (without the smut of course) and my teacher said she loved it.

This is a world where the colour of your blood precedes you. There’s a story of a vile woman who drowned each and every one of her children. She believed that the children she bare were evil, as the voices in her head would tell her. This woman was sent to the gallows and the off putting of her head was made. The spurt of black covered the stone and the observers gasped at the colour of her blood. This, was the paradigm shift of the world.

James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, was currently running scans on a politics’ computer. His icy blue eyes ran over the hard drive lighting up to life, the information being poured into the small high-tech box. James was an assassin. However, he likes to think he has come very far from what he used to be.

The Soviet Union has taken him in, and instead of working with Hydra he’s working for the Russians. The brunette has been the cause of many assassins over the span of seventy years. He’s a super soldier and ages slower than a normal human. Due to his expertise on the field and his shadowy nature, the Winter Soldier became something of a ghost story, with intelligence agencies doubting he even existed.

Hydra was a strict paramilitary set on world domination based in Germany and sprung from WWII. They had made the Winter Soldier, tearing away James from his own mind. He was brainwashed to lose his memory after each mission then put into a cryostasis chamber to rest. James endured seventy years of this. He had a metal arm for as long as he could remember and that wasn’t a lot. It was the highest level of weaponized technology with a red star on the outer shoulder. There were plates that helped the arm move in a human manner – it was a nightmare.

James has seen his own blood, of course. It’s like black tar that runs along his skin when he’s wounded. The man heals quickly and he tends to wipe the reminder away. Something that he locked away in a box in his mind is the constant pull he feels towards Brooklyn, New York. The brunette doesn’t know much of where he really originated from and doesn’t want to find out – he knows it’ll only make him miserable. So, he works. He listens to the Russians and takes vacation on beaches in Fiji.

He meets Steve, a shy young man with golden hair and ocean blue eyes. The mess of blonde on his head is a halo. He’s the same height as James and built but, not as broad as him. Yet, he doesn’t seem to fit into his body. He’s clumsy and jitters like a Jack in the Box. Steve is a freelance artist that sketched James on a beach in Fiji, asking him with a flush high on his cheeks to pose for him. James has never forgotten him.

This is why he’s here now, scanning the computer. He doesn’t usually take missions in the States, especially New York because of reasons, but Steve lives here. So, he’ll hit two birds with one stone.

Taking the hard drive from the desk, James tucks it inside the inner breast pocket of his suit. He leaves the office with a smirk and stares down at all the masked people dancing on the ballroom floor – a masquerade.

He catches sight of a halo on the sidelines and straightens his mask on his face. Making his way down the stairs, his breath catches in his throat when Steve looks around the room with anticipation. James is quick to make his way over to ask the male to dance.

It’s a night not even Hydra could have wiped away from him.

Steve doesn’t ask about the scars on his shoulders from where the metal meets skin, but he doesn’t ignore it. He gives attention with his lips, fingertips and heart.

There are tears streaming down his face as he moans into the heated air between them. James tightens his hold on Steve’s wrists above his head. He growls when Steve arches into his paced thrusts whimpering, “more James, please.” The urge is pulling at his seams but he doesn’t want to hurt the only light within his life.

“Stop holding back,” Steve smiles softly and blinks the needy tears away from his ocean blue eyes. The brunette releases Steve’s wrists and drops to his elbows, thrusting deep and forceful into the sobbing male beneath him. He bites at his shoulder and groans when he feels the splatter of Steve’s orgasm his stomach, the tight hold on his cock.

Steve is sobbing loudly and clutching at the brunette’s shoulders, squirming under James as he chases his own orgasm. James groans when he topples over the edge, filling Steve with his come. He thrusts slowly until he realizes rest would have to wait after a few more orgasms.

“I-,” Steve looks thoroughly fucked; his halo of blond hair is a mess, his cheeks red and lips swollen. James pulls out and jerks his cock a few times, finding pleasure in his hand and the simple look of Steve.

“It usually takes a few times.” James mumbles and rubs a thumb over Steve’s hip bone as the other one works up another warm feeling within his stomach. The blonde bites at his lip before turning on his stomach and getting up onto his wobbling knees before throwing himself down. His cheek is pressed into the sheets below and he’s presenting himself to be—

“Use me,” The angel pants out, blowing at a strand of golden hair that fell in front of his eyes. His arms were raised above his head, clutching the sheets in need. “Please, I—”

James doesn’t hesitate before gripping a handful of the blonde’s ass and leaning down to press a soft kiss to the spine of his back before taking what fulfilled his own needs.

Once, James was in a park. It was the afternoon when business men would stop to take a seat on a bench, or a woman with a child would waltz by with a stroller. However, for James, he held a silenced 9mm Beretta in the holster on the side of his chest, waiting for a man who ate a sub every day in the bench across from him.

Not many people catch James’ eye, but this one boy did. The boy reminded him of Steve. He jumped around his mother in giggles, pretending to save her from something or someone – a guardian angel; a hero. The woman shook her head with a soft smile and James felt himself grin also. It soon came to an end when the boy tripped and scrapped his elbow, a rosy red liquid running down his forearm. James fought the urge to pick the boy up and sooth him from tears, but his mother did it just fine. James wondered what it would be like if he had a child of his own. A child with rosy red blood of innocence that maybe even James himself once had. He watched the small boy be carried away with his fists rubbing his tears and nodded. Taking out the silenced 9mm Beretta, he barely took a second to aim at the man who showed up in the bench to eat merely twenty seconds ago, shooting him in the forehead.

He sees Steve again, this time in the comforts of the blonde’s apartment. They eat Chinese takeout and watch a movie called Pride and Prejudice. Although, James doesn’t recall much of the movie for which he’d been staring at the halo of blonde hair on Steve’s head or the ocean swirling in his eyes or even the slight jitter he held in his fingertips. Steve yawns but stands to head to the kitchen rather than the bedroom. James follows.

“These dishes that need to be washed are long overdue.” He smiled and ran the tap. The dishes were there before James had even got there. The brunette can’t ever remember washing dishes but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing a drying cloth that was hung up. It’s domestic, bumping hips together and taking side glances at each other.

Steve helps to put the dry dishes in the correct places until he clumsily drops a plate and they both watch as it smashes into pieces. The blonde becomes flushed and is quick to drop to the floor to gather the pieces with his hands. James mumbles for him to stop as he finds the broom but it’s too late.

Looking down at the pile of glass and Steve staring at his hands, James’ gaps at the black fluid running down his fingers from his palms. He runs a hand through his halo, messing up his hair – his façade. James stares at the fidgeting angel in front of him in awe. How could he be bleeding the blackness of corruption? The tension could be cut with a knife but James attempts to brush it off by reaching his hand out.

“Come on, I’ll clean you up in the bathroom.” Steve tenderly takes the brunettes hand and shudders. James can feel his worry radiating off him but ignores it. Helping Steve onto the counter, he searches for the first aid kit. There’s no sound in the room but the even breaths coming from the two males. He cleans Steve’s wounds, runs a wet rag through his halo and washes his own hands. Once James is finished, he stands between Steve’s thighs to look down at him in question.

It takes a few seconds but soon Steve looks up at him with a wicked smile. It’s a grin that James has never seen before and he swallows, suddenly scared for the first time in his life that he could remember.

“I’ve been illegally downloading music since 2006.” Steve giggles and shakes his head. “It’s hardly a crime.”

James sighs and reaches up to hold the blonde’s cheek.

“Hardly.” He echo’s as he thinks of the silenced 9mm Beretta in his jacket pocket that he used to kill the man in the park earlier that day.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a dirty little whore honestly


End file.
